


First Times

by wanheda_two_heda



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12003645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanheda_two_heda/pseuds/wanheda_two_heda
Summary: Clarke's frustrated with the fact that she's still a virgin and wants her best friend to help her out, but Bellamy doesn't know if he can stop himself at sleeping with the girl he's in love with just once.Super smutty Clarke's first time with feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

“Will you have sex with me?” Clarke asks as she hops up onto the counter. 

The dish Bellamy was washing makes a splash as he drops it back into the sink, water splashing onto his shirt. 

“Jesus, Clarke! Warn a guy!”

“Is that a no?” She bites her lip worriedly. 

“Yes, it's a no.” He sounds almost disgusted at the thought. 

“Oh.” 

Clarke hops off the counter and goes to sit at the table in her best friend’s small kitchen. She rests her chin in her hands and huffs, frustrated. There was a time--before they were friends, when Bellamy was just Octavia’s older brother--when the idea of seeing him naked would have appalled her. But they’d grown up and grown closer, and puberty had done great things for Bellamy’s physique--and Clarke’s sex drive when she’d followed a few years later. Bellamy stays quiet while he finishes up the dishes, and Clarke tries to ignore the way the rejection twists in her gut. 

“Movie?” Bellamy asks when he’s put away the last of the dishes. His acting like she didn't ask him the most embarrassing question ever makes her even more sad. 

Clarke tries to plaster a smile on her face, but she knows she's not convincing anyone. “No, I think I’m just going to go home,” she says dejectedly, pushing away from the table. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy sighs, coming to stand in front of her. “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's okay.” She tries to keep the smile on, but tears are stinging in the corners of her eyes. “I'm just tired.”

He takes her wrists lightly in his hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, Bellamy, really. I just want to go home.”

“Look at me,” he urges. She meets his eyes knowing full well her face is red with embarrassment. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?” His question is soft, like he's genuinely curious. 

“Because I’m tired of being a virgin!” She throws her hands up, exasperated. 

“That's never bothered you before.”

“Well, it bothers me now. I'm almost twenty-three, and I want to have sex. I don't think I need this huge justification; I just want to do it.”

“So do it,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear despite the grimace on his face. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she snaps, turning away and stomping towards the door. “Jesus, Bellamy, don't think I don't know what you're like. You're clearly not opposed to the idea of having sex, and I've seen some of the girls you bring home, so stop acting like me being naked is the grossest thing that's ever crossed your mind. At least pretend to care about your best friend.”

He catches her wrist just as she reaches the door and crowds her against the wall, his body burning with heat as he presses close to her. 

“You're not gross, Clarke,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief like he doesn't know that having him this close his making her heart race. “But I'm not going to be your first.”

“Why not?” she asks quietly. 

“Why do you want it to be me? Go out with Raven this weekend, and you'll have your pick of guys to sleep with.”

“I'm scared,” she admits, unable to meet his eyes. “But I know that if I tell you to stop, you'll stop. I trust you.”

He drops his head to her shoulder. “I can't.”

“Why not?” she asks, clearly frustrated. His warm breath on her neck makes it hard to keep from arching into him. He hides his face further against her neck. “Bell?”

He pulls back to look into her eyes. “Because I don't think I could handle knowing what you look like naked under me, what you taste like, the sounds you make when you orgasm and knowing that it doesn't mean anything, and I'll never get that again.”

“You have one night stands all the time,” Clarke manages, but her mouth has gone dry. 

“Only because I can't have you,” he admits, nosing along her jawline. 

Clarke's breath stutters. “Bell. Kiss me.”

His teeth nip at a spot just below her ear that makes her gasp.

“You're playing with fire, Clarke,” he warns, his voice now deep and husky. 

“I need it to be you,” she whispers into his ear, her arms coming around his shoulders. 

“Fuck it,” he groans, circling his hips hard against hers and swallowing her surprised gasp. 

His lips are warm and chapped but soft in their movements against hers. His tongue darts out and slides against the seam of her mouth and she opens, letting his tongue find hers. His hands hold her hips steady, almost as if he's afraid that she'll run away. She can't remember how to think long enough to tell him that she doesn't know if she can stop, either, knowing what it's like to be kissed by Bellamy Blake. He's slow and gentle and his arms wrap around her to hold her close. 

“Clarke,” he breathes, finally pulling away but kissing the tip of her nose. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she says, her blue eyes blazing with certainty. “I want it to be you. I know you'll take care of me.”

His eyes grow wide with hunger, and he takes her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Come on. Your first time isn't going to be up against a wall.”

“What about my second?” she asks, and he chokes, pulling her quickly to his room. 

Bellamy’s room has always been clean and organized, and Clarke tries to take everything in, knowing that after what's about to happen, she'll never look at this place the same again. Bellamy stops in front of her when she sits on the edge of his bed. 

“Clarke,” he says, his forehead creased with worry. “We don't have to do this.”

“I want to,” she says quietly.

“If you change your mind at any point, you need to tell me, okay? One word from you, and it's over. I'm not going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do.”

“I know, Bellamy.” She slides her hands up the hard planes of his stomach. “I trust you.”

He grabs her wrists and holds her still. “Okay, then let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good, Clarke.”

“But it's going to hurt, right?” she asks, suddenly unsure. 

“Not if we take it slow. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't, and if it does, we can stop.”

Her eyes are wide with wonder as so looks up at him, and her heart swells with fondness. She's always had a soft spot where Bellamy was concerned, but she didn't realize she was in love with him until she realized just how much he cares about her. 

“Clarke?”

She smiles warmly. “I'm ready. Do you have a condom? Do you want me to just lie down on my back? I guess I should start by taking my clothes off.”

She doesn't realize she's rambling until he grips her upper arms and meets her gaze. “Remember what I said about taking it slow?” he says with a fond laugh. “Just relax, Clarke. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

He takes her hands and pulls her to her feet, his hand coming up to cup her face and he kisses her deeply. His lips are firmer now, more insistent and sure. She slides her arms around his neck and her fingers tangle in his dark curls as she pulls herself flush against him. 

“How far have you gone with someone?” he asks between kisses. 

“Lexa used a vibrator on me once, but it wasn't great, and I let Finn finger me,” she admits. 

“That's it?” he asks, pulling away. Clarke feels the rush of warmth flood her cheeks. “Hey, no,” Bellamy says, tipping her chin up with his fingers to meet her eyes. “Don't be embarrassed. I just didn't expect to be so many first for you.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, swallowing. 

“Sex is about so much more than someone shoving their dick in you for a couple minutes, Princess. You're supposed to be treated like a fucking queen.”

She takes his wrist to guide his hand up her shirt. “Show me.”

Bellamy groans, thrusting his hips against her as he squeezes her heavy breast. She can feel how hard he is through the denim of his pants. 

“Fuck, you have nice tits, Clarke.” His other hand finds her second globe and he teases her nipples through the fabric of her bra. “You have no idea how long I've been wanting to get my hands on these and see your pretty pink nipples grow hard under my thumbs.”

She reaches down to lift her shirt over her head while Bellamy continues to massage her breasts, reaching into the cups of her bra to pull her tits out. Clarke arches into his touch at the feel of skin against skin. 

“Bellamy,” she gasps. 

“Tell me what feels good, babe. Tell me, and I'll do it.” He reluctantly drops one breast long enough to reach back and unclasp her bra, returning to his ministrations the second the straps are down her arms. 

“Can you—” she stops, her face red, unable to say the words. 

“Tell me, Clarke.” He kisses her sweetly to reassure her. 

“I want to feel your mouth on my nipples,” she says, breathy. 

He slides his hands down her stomach as he kneels in front of her, kissing along her hip bones, up to her waist, and over every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Her head falls back when she tangles her fingers in his inky curls, his deft fingers working to undo the snap of her jeans. He slides her pants down her legs as he continues to press open-mouthed kisses to the expanse of her stomach, helps her step out of them, and then urges her to lie down. 

“You have too much clothes on compared to me,” she complains.

“That can easily be fixed.” He smirks as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Jeans, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says jokingly, but doesn’t waste a second shucking off the heavy denim.

She can see the effect she’s having on him clearly outlined in the dark navy blue of his boxer briefs, and for a second, she forgets how to swallow, but then he’s kneeling over her, his hands warm on her skin, and all she can focus on is the warm brown of his eyes. 

“Still sure?” he asks.

She bites her lip and nods, unsure if she’ll be able to speak. His fingers tickle as the slide up her ribcage to reach her tits and her back is arched off the bed before his tongue even touches one of her sensitive nipples. His lips close around one of the tight buds, and Clarke sucks in a sharp breath. Bellamy’s hand comes up to tweak the other one while he works her over with his tongue, and she’s squirming beneath him in seconds.

“That feel good, Clarke?”

“God, yes,” she pants.

“Bellamy’s fine. You don’t have to call me God.”

“Shut up,” she says, but her eyes are closed and she’s still breathless.

He blows softly on her wet nipple, the sensation making her cry sharply, before ducking down to take the second in his mouth. She can’t seem to stop running her hands over his shoulders, through his hair. Now that she’s had her hands on him, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to be around him without touching him. It’s the first thing that makes her regret asking him to sleep with her. He must feel her tense up because he stops and pulls back to look at her.

“Clarke? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling softly. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, and she feels tears sting at the corners of her eyes, feels foolish for getting so emotional.

He swipes his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. “Tell me why you’re crying. Did I do something wrong? I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

She laughs, pulls herself up to hide her face against his shoulder as she sniffs away the lingering urge to cry. “No, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he asks, pulling back to see her face. “We’re not continuing until you tell me.”

“Bellamy, please,” she begs, hoping he’ll understand that it’s not something she’s ready to say out loud.

He moves away from her, props himself up against the headboard, and then pulls her into his side, his warm body wrapping protectively around her. She hugs the arms that hold her tight.

“If you changed your mind, that’s okay. We’ll stop.”

“It’s not that,” she says, turning around to look at him. She’s practically sitting in his lap, his face so close to hers that she could count every single freckle.

“Then what?” He brushes his hand soothingly over her hair. 

Her heart aches in her chest when she takes in the way his eyes are focused on her, as if nothing else matters in the world but her.

“Tell me why you said no when I asked you earlier.”

“Is that what’s bothering you? Clarke, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Tell me what you meant, then,” she urges, her hand once again resting on his cheek. They’re trapped in their own little bubble, holding each other tightly, and she wants this again every day for the rest of her life, so much so, it hurts.

Bellamy brushes his nose against hers. “I didn’t know if I could do this just once. I still don’t know if I can. But I know you only asked me because I have a lot of… experience, and I didn’t want to do this knowing that’s all it was for you. But then you said that you were scared, and I hated the idea of some asshole hurting you, so even if you walk away after this and never lie in this bed with me again, at least I know you were safe for your first time.”

She’s crying again before he even finishes, pressing frantic kisses to his neck and shoulder, holding his head closer to hers. She kisses the underside of his jaw, nips at his earlobe and then at the dimple in his chin. He pulls back before she can get too carried away.

“Tell me what the tears are for,” he says, holding her face steady and wiping his thumbs under her eyes.

“I’m in love with you, you goof,” she says, smile wide now that she’s admitted it. “I didn’t think you wanted me, and I was scared I’d ruined our friendship because I was never going to be able to be normal around you again.”

He surges forward to capture her mouth, hot and insistent as he presses her back into the mattress with his body. She can feel his erection heavy against her hip. She tries to grind her hips against his, but his weight keeps her still. At her desperate moans, he finally relents and slips his hand under the elastic of her panties, one finger sliding between her folds to press lightly on her clit while he licks into her mouth.

“Bellamy,” she gasps, throwing her head back.

He slides off her to give himself more room and presses hungry, wet kisses to her neck. He’s barely touched her for more than a moment before she feels the rush of electricity flood her body, sees the stars dance behind her eyelids, and then she’s crying out with pleasure as Bellamy looks down at her, her chest heaving with gasping breaths.

“Jesus Christ, did you just--?”

Clarke bites her lip. “Was I--was I not supposed to?” she asks, feels the redness stain her chest and neck as it works its way up.

“No,” Bellamy chuckles. “It’s just that no one’s ever come that fast for me before.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he groans against her shoulder. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a good thing, because you’re going to have a lot more before we’re done.”

The thought makes her shiver. Bellamy’s fingers continue exploring between her labia, circling her opening and testing the wetness that’s already gathered there. 

“You’re so turned on already,” he says, mouthing at the side of her breast.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet.”

He pulls back to look at her at that, his pupils blown. “You touch yourself.” It’s not a question, but she nods anyway. “Fuck,” he groans. “Tell me what you do. Tell me what feels good, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know. I usually just rub myself until I orgasm. Finn tried to put a finger inside of me once, but it hurt.”

“Of course it did, because he wouldn’t know how to fuck a woman properly if he tried. I’ll show you what you’ve been missing out on, and I promise it won’t hurt.”

“Okay.” 

She closes her eyes and lies back, waits for Bellamy to start moving his fingers again, but he doesn’t, just leaves them still where they sit against the throbbing hole of her cunt. 

“Clarke,” he says, and she looks up to find him looking fondly down on her. “I didn’t say it earlier, but in case it wasn’t obvious, I love you, too.”

He leans down to kiss her languorously, his tongue darting lazily in and out of her mouth while his fingers resume their exploration. He coats his first two digits in her arousal, getting them slick so they slide easily up and down her slit, and he has Clarke panting again in seconds.

“Ready?” he asks against her mouth.

She moans into his mouth and he takes it as a yes. He circles his index around her opening again, gathering as much wetness as he can before slowly sliding it inside of her. She cries out with both pain and desire when he does.

“Are you okay?” he asks quickly.

“Fine,” she pants. “Fuck, Bellamy. That feels so fucking good.” 

She’s quickly gotten used to the size of his finger, and once the stretch doesn’t feel so foreign, she can focus more on the easy in and out motion and the thumb he’s once against pressed on her clit. Once she’s loosened up enough, he tries adding a second finger, giving her time to get adjusted. His other hand pulls her panties down her legs, his fingers sliding over her thighs and behind her knees as he brings them to her ankles where she kicks them off. His mouth leaves hers, and he starts trailing a line of kisses between the valley of her breasts and down over her stomach. He kisses her hip, nuzzles the divot where her hip meets her thigh, and then begins kissing closer to her heat.

“Bellamy,” she gasps when she realizes what he’s doing. “You don’t have to.”

He smirks at her, and the sight of his head between her legs has an embarrassing amount of juices come flooding onto his hand. “Princess, nobody has to, but I want to. I want to taste you and tease you with my tongue, and feel you come against my mouth.” He pulls his fingers out of her and takes in the gushing liquid that follows. “And it looks like you want me to, too. Lie down. Relax, Clarke. This is my favorite part.”

She cries out in ecstasy when he runs the flat of his tongue from her cunt to her clit, and she can feel his resulting grin. 

“Don’t get smug; it doesn’t look good on you,” she manages.

“No, but you do,” he says with a shit-eating grin spread from ear to ear.

She groans and pushes his head back down. He goes right back to licking her out, sliding a finger in when she’s got her head thrown back in bliss. She doesn’t even have to get adjusted to the size, now, too turned on to be too tight. He adds a second finger, and the stretch is just enough for her to be unable to focus on which source of pleasure feels the best: his tongue alternating between soft kitten licks and harsh slashes, or his fingers, curved upwards inside of her, reaching that elusive spot she’d never been able to find before. 

This time, when she feels her climax come close, she reaches down to the hand Bellamy has splayed over her hip. He turns his palm over and laces his fingers through her. She comes, chanting his name with one hand holding his and the other fisting in the sheets as Bellamy slowly removes his fingers from her cunt, slows his licks to gentle brushes of his tongue as she comes down from her second orgasm, body completely loose and tired. 

Blissed out, she keeps her eyes closed while she catches her breath. She feels Bellamy press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh before coming up to lie beside her, pulling her against his chest.

“How do you feel?”

“Incredible,” she says, still out of breath. 

He kisses her shoulder. “Good.”

“You haven’t come yet.” She opens her eyes slowly and reaches back to palm him through his briefs. His hips jerk at the contact, and she twists in his arms to face him, throwing a leg over his hip. “You should let me get you off.” She slide a finger under the elastic, teasing him slowly.

“Tonight isn’t about me,” he says, stopping her by twining his fingers with hers. 

“It doesn’t have to be just about me,” she insists, breaking her hand away and sliding it into his briefs to cup him.

“Clarke,” he sputters, “if you don’t stop that, you might not be losing your virginity for another few hours.”

She grins wolfishly. “That good, eh, Blake?”

“Fuck, I’ve wanted your hands on me for so long that I could come just thinking about it.”

“So let this be an exercise in restraint.” She wraps her small hand around his throbbing dick and jerks him quickly, sliding her thumb over the tip, gathering the precum and spreading it over his thick head.

“Clarke,” he warns again.

She bats her eyelashes at him and twists her wrist when she reaches the base of his shaft. “Fine, but I’m getting my mouth on you at some point.”

He curses before leaning over to kiss her. “I’d be stupid to turn that offer down, but right now, I need to feel you around me.”

“I’m ready.”

He brushes his hand over her shoulder and down her arm to find her fingers, sliding his between hers. “Are you scared?”

She shakes her head. “I trust you.”

“You need to tell me if it hurts, or if you want me to stop, or if anything feels wrong. I’ll stop as soon as you say the word.”

She kisses him sweetly. “I trust you, Bellamy,” she repeats. 

He kisses her while he blindly reaches into his bedside table for a condom, and Clarke doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to stop kissing Bellamy Blake. The thought that he feels the same way has her pushing her chest into his, wanting to be even closer to him. He makes a delighted sound in the back of his throat, and Clarke smiles, knowing that she’s the reason for it.

“Fuck,” he says, breaking away. “Sorry, babe, I can’t find a fucking condom. One sec.”

She watches as he sits up on the edge of the bed and starts rifling through the drawer. Clarke comes to kneel behind him, her hands running over his shoulders and biceps and learning down the press soft kisses along his traps. 

“You’re nervous,” she says.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not. I think it’s sweet.” Her kisses get hotter as she trails them further up his neck. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

He turns to look at her, their eyes meeting, and a disbelieving smile on his face.

“What?” she asks with a laugh.

“How don’t you know that you’re it for me? I want this to be good for you. I want you to like this, and like me, and--”

“Hey,” she says, covering his mouth with hers. “I love you, Bell. Sex is just sex. You’ve already made it incredible, and I’ve heard the stories.” She winks at him. “I don’t think you’re bad in bed, and I know you won’t hurt me.”

He pulls a condom from the drawer, and turns around to stand in front of Clarke. She leans forward to press a kiss against his hipbone before pulling his boxers down. Her mouth goes dry when she takes in the sight of him, hard and standing fully erect, red head dripping with precum. She nuzzles his dick before sticking her tongue out to lick up the salty drop of arousal. Bellamy groans, his head thrown back, and slides his fingers into Clarke’s hair. 

“Want to put it on?” he asks, offering her the condom.

She takes it, nodding, and tears open the foil packet. Pinching the tip, she slides the latex sheath over his cock, slowly unrolling it as she makes her way to the base, sliding her hand up and down his length a few more times before stopping to look up at him. His eyes are closed, and she can see his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

She takes his hands and guides him over her when she lies down on her back, Bellamy’s presence warm above her. He starts by kissing her slowly, getting her worked back up again with his fingers before he deems her wet enough to accommodate him with with little ache. He lines himself up with her entrance and then meets her eyes.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he says. 

She smiles and shakes her head. “Fuck me, Bellamy Blake,” she whispers into his ear.

“God damnit, woman,” he groans, sliding into her slowly. 

Clarke gasps with every inch of him that enters her. Bellamy takes his time, kisses her throughout, and stills at even the slightest hint that she’s uncomfortable. Once he’s completely inside her, she’s the one that has to move her hips to urge him into action.

“Impatient,” he tsks. 

“I want you.”

“You have me,” he says, sliding his hand down her leg to the back of her knee and hiking it over his hip so that he can thrust in that much deeper.

“Bell,” Clarke gasps, her eyes going wide and hands squeezing his biceps tightly. 

“You okay?” he pants.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, do that again,” she laughs, breathless.

He smirks and kisses her before starting an easy rhythm, a slow in an out that becomes messier and more erratic the closer they get to their climaxes. Clarke brings her other leg up to dig her heels into his ass and urge him deeper into her.

“Clarke,” he pants against her neck, their joint fingers resting on the pillow above her head. “Come for me, babe. I’m so close, and I need to feel you come.”

She moans, and when his lips latch onto her nipple, whatever she’d meant to answer is gone, lost in the fireworks exploding all throughout her body. She’s aware of him groaning as he thrusts into her a few more times before his head falls heavily against her shoulder, speaking her name as her fills her.

They lay like that, both of them unable to move, as they catch their breaths. Clarke is tired and sated, smiling contentedly when Bellamy lifts himself off of her and slides himself out of her. 

“Be right back,” he says, kissing her forehead and leaving to dispose of the condom. 

She hears him rustling around in the bathroom and has her bra and shirt back on by the time he comes back into the room. He’s got a washcloth in his hands but stops when he sees her half-dressed on the side of the bed.

“I, uh, I thought you might want to sleep so I figured I’d just go home,” she says, not meeting his eyes.

He goes to stand in front of her and pulls her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, still not looking at him.

“Babe, tell me,” he says, and she looks up at that.

“Did you mean it?” she asks.

His hands find her waist and hold her gently. “Did I mean what?”

“When I told you I loved you, did you mean it, or did you just say it to reassure me?”

He chuckles and takes her chin between his thumb and index, holding her firmly in place. “Do you still doubt who you are to me?”

“Tell me now that you’re not about to have sex with me.”

“I love you, Clarke. I’ve loved you for ages, but I wanted to give you the chance to do better than me. I loved you when you asked me to sleep with you, and I loved you when you were under me screaming my name, and I love you now.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was  _ not _ screaming your name.”

“I don’t know. It  _ was  _ pretty loud.” The corners of his eyes are crinkling with his smile.

Clarke reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss her. Bellamy happily obliges, his fingers tight on her waist. 

“I brought you something to clean yourself up. And I am a little sleepy, but I was hoping you’d stay with me?” It’s his turn to look uncertain.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

Bellamy kisses the tip of her nose. “Not just tonight. I’m kind of hoping you’ll want to stay over every night.”

“Do I get coffee in the morning?”

“I’ll even make you pancakes.”

“If you make me pancakes every morning, I’ll get fat.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he laughs.

“But you love me.” His grin matches her own.

* * *

Cleaned up and wearing one of Bellamy’s over-sized t-shirts, Clarke slides under the covers and tucks herself against Bellamy’s side. He’s propped against the headboard, wearing his glasses and thumbing through his Facebook feed on his phone.

“Comfy?” he asks, kissing the crown of her head.

“Yeah,” she says with a smile, nuzzling further against him. 

He puts his phone away and turns off the lamp on his bedside table before resting his glasses beside his phone. “Goodnight, babe.” He wraps himself around her, his legs tangling with hers, and she sighs happily, holding the arms that wrap around her.

“Goodnight, Bell. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Princess.”


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, guys. It's the hiatus. I can't be held accountable for anything.

Clarke screws her eyes shut against the ray of light shining through the window. She sighs happily and rolls onto her back, stretching her arm out and reaching for Bellamy. She’s sore in all the best places, and her muscles ache after they woke up at some point during the night for a second round of Clarke’s new favorite pastime. But the bed is empty, and the sheets behind her are cold. She frowns and slowly opens her eyes, climbing out of bed.

There’s noise coming from the kitchen, and after a quick glance in the mirror to fix her hair, she heads out to investigate wearing nothing but Bellamy’s oversized t-shirt which barely reaches halfway down her thighs. When she rounds the corner, she sees Bellamy with his back turned to her, stirring something as the radio plays softly in the background. He’s wearing red plaid pyjama pants and an old wife-beater, and something about the whole scene is so domestic that it makes Clarke’s heart feel full. He pivots to pour batter into a pan, and Clarke watches as he stares at it. She’s leaning against the door jamb, her arms and ankles crossed, when he turns and catches her eye.

The smile he gives her makes her heart stutter. He walks over to her, slides his arms around her waist and pulls her close.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her slowly. 

She feels dazed when he pulls away. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”

“I plan on doing it so often that you do.” He kisses the tip of her nose, and she smiles.

“Good morning.”

“I like this shirt on you,” he says, sliding his hands underneath the worn fabric and squeezing the globes of her ass. 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you do.” She slides her hands through his hair, loving the feel of it between her fingers. “Are you making me breakfast?”

He ducks his head, looks almost sheepish. “I’m not used to this.”

“To what?”

“To wanting someone to still be here after I wake up.”

“Pancakes are a good start,” she says, stretching onto her tiptoes to capture Bellamy’s mouth. “Come on.” She takes his hand and pulls him to the stove where she takes the spatula and expertly flips the now-burnt pancake onto a plate.

He comes up behind her, his hands on her hips, and buries his face in her hair as she ladles out more batter. “I told you I wasn’t good at this.”

She laughs and has to bite her lip to keep from grinning. “I knew you couldn’t be perfect.” She turns her head and tips it back to invite a kiss, one which he happily gives her. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he mumbles against her mouth.

“Jackass,” she says, and for a moment, she’s lost in kissing Bellamy, the way his exploring hands under the shirt send goosebumps down her spine, the feel of his arousal growing steadily against her lower back, the erotic arch of her neck, completely exposed to him, and the way he makes her moan when his hand snakes through the collar of her shirt and tickles the column of her throat with the tips of his fingers. 

“Fuck,” he swears when she starts mouthing at his neck. “God damn it, Clarke.” He grabs her hips and pulls her back firmer against him. 

She laughs. “We burnt another pancake.”

“Screw the pancakes,” he all but growls.

“Screw me instead.”

“ _ Jesus Christ _ . How the fuck did you manage to not have sex for so long? How did you not drive every guy insane?” he bemoans as his hands find her breasts while he kisses along her neck.

“I wanted it to be you,” she admits quietly, and he lets his head drop to her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed.” He takes her hand, but she doesn’t let him pull her away.

“After breakfast,” she insists. “Orgasms make me hungry.”

“Well then maybe you should have put pants on before coming out here.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so easy to distract,” she teases as she ladles batter into the pan for the third time.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so fucking beautiful,” he says, his face hidden against the side of her neck while he holds her tightly.

She sighs happily and leans into him, flipping the pancake. “I love you, Bell.”

“I love you, too, babe,” he says, punctuating the statement with a light kiss to her shoulder.

She stacks the first good pancake onto a new plate. “Why don’t you go set the table so you’re not so distracted?” He’s still hard and ready to go against her.

“If I don’t, I might take you right on this counter.”

“Hmmm, now there’s an idea.”

He steps back, his hands up defensively. “Okay, I’m going, because if I don’t, we’re never going to eat, and I’ve known you long enough to know that you get cranky when you don’t eat.”

“I don’t get cranky!”

“Clarke.” He looks at her deadpan.

“Yeah, okay, maybe I get a little cranky.”

“Exactly. So I’m going to set the table. Hurry up so we can eat. I want to have you for dessert.”

She bursts out laughing, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “You didn’t just say that.” Another burst of laughter makes its way past her lips. “Is this why you don’t let girls stay over? Is this the big secret that you need to keep? You turn into a horny teenage boy with pickup lines in the morning?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” he says, coming closer. He leans in, close enough that his lips brush the shell of her ear when he says, “You won’t be laughing when my head is buried between your thighs.” Her breath catches, and she feels her nipples tighten. “That’s what I thought. I’m gonna go set the table, now.”

Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever made pancakes so fast in her life. As soon as one was done, she flipped it out of the pan and added more batter. Bellamy moves in and out of the kitchen lazily as he gathers plates and cutlery. Each time he passes by her, he trails a finger along her spine, or down her arm, or playfully smacks her ass, knowing full well the effect he has on her each time. 

She decides that six pancakes between the two of them is enough. She made them bigger than usual, too, to save time. When she brings the plate to the table, she notices that he’s set up their place settings on opposite ends of the rectangular table. He’s leaning back with his hands crossed behind his head and watches as she takes in the distance between them.

“Problem, Clarke?” he asks, smug.

“Not at all,” she says, returning the same smile as she bends at the waist to put the plate down, giving him a clear view down her shirt. She sees him swallow. “Bon appetit.”

Clarke takes her time eating, as does Bellamy, each staring at the other across the table almost daring each other to give in and go faster, to show eagerness. She pushes her plate away after two pancakes, watches as Bellamy cuts into her third that she’d happily handed over. 

“Hungry?” she teases as though the tension between them isn’t palpable. 

“Getting energy for later,” he says with a raised brow.

“Good idea.” She dips her finger into the leftover syrup on her plate and slowly brings it to her lips.

Bellamy swallows thickly as her tongue darts out to lick the sticky sweet substance from her index finger. Satisfied with his reaction, she repeats the action, this time sticking her finger in her mouth and pulling it out slowly, letting her teeth scrape against the pad of her finger.

“Clarke,” Bellamy chokes.

“Yeah, babe?” she asks innocently, coating her finger in more syrup.

She moves her hand towards his mouth but changes direction at the last second. She tips her head back and sticks her tongue out to catch the drop of syrup that drips from her fingertip. He moves so fast that she doesn’t even see him at first, just hears the scrape of his chair on the linoleum floor, but suddenly he’s reaching around her, taking her plate and stacking it with his on the counter just to her left before her grabs her hips and lifts her onto the table.

His lips are on hers before she even has a chance to grab at him. Her legs wrap around him, her hands fisting into the fabric of his worn shirt as he tips her onto her back onto the table. He’s already hard and wanting against her core, and she can feel his incredible length through his pyjama pants. He grinds against her to give her the friction she desperately needs, but it’s over too quickly. He pulls back, breaking the kiss and leaving her on her back with her legs around him.

“You’re such a beautiful tease,” he scolds with a wicked smile. 

“You like that?”

“Fuck, I bet eating anything on you would make it taste a million times better.”

“Try it,” she says, her hand sliding down to hook a finger under the hem of the shirt she’s wearing.

She slowly pulls the shirt upwards, exposing the creamy expanse of her stomach. When she meets Bellamy’s eyes, his pupils are blown, his eyes dark with want and need. She reaches behind her without a second thought and grabs the bottle of syrup, popping the cap before Bellamy can say anything and letting it slowly dribble out onto her skin, pooling in her bellybutton. Bellamy immediately starts to kiss her stomach, his tongue darting out to slowly lick up the mess she’s made.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he groans between hungry open-mouthed kisses. 

He laps up the sticky sweetness in her bellybutton then runs the flat of his tongue all the way back up to her sternum. 

“God, I love the feel of your mouth on me,” she says, her head thrown back and eyes closed. 

Bellamy leans back, his strong hands reaching behind him to her ankles and unlocking them from around his waist. He drops her left leg, but holds her right on firmly. Clarke watches as Bellamy turns his head to kiss her ankle. He props her ankle up on his shoulder and slowly kisses his way to her knee, where he kneels in front of her and hooks it over his shoulder. He picks up her other leg and repeats the torturously slow line of kisses along that one until it too is bent over his shoulder. Clarke’s heart races as he kisses his way up her thighs and her breath nearly stops when he sucks a searing bruise so close to her core that his nose nearly bumps against her clit.

“Bellamy,” she breathes, nearly arching off the table to get closer to him.

“Not so smug now, are you?”

“Bellamy,  _ please _ ,” she begs.

“Please what?”

She whimpers.

“Use your words, Clarke, and tell me what you want me to do for you.”

“God, Bellamy, I need your mouth.”

He presses a chaste kiss to her outer labia. “Just my mouth?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck, no. Your mouth and your tongue and your fingers and your teeth. I need all of you on me.”

“ _ My teeth _ , huh?”

“Yes, babe. Fuck. Ah, do that thing you did last night.” She reaches for him but he grabs her wrists and stops her.

“You’re going to keep your hands to yourself this morning, okay?”

“Did I do something bad?” she asks, shooting up to better see him.

He chuckles and noses up her slit. “No, babe. You could never do anything bad.” He kisses her inner thigh. “It’ll be more fun like this, you’ll see. I promise. I want you to keep those hands busy, though, okay? Keep them on your tits for me and play with your nipples. Can you do that for me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” she says, and she’s already panting before he’s even touched her.

Bellamy turns his head and nips sharply at the inside of her thigh. Clarke gasps and cants her hips up, desperate for more contact. Bellamy doesn’t give her a warning before licking a fat strip up to her clit. Clarke squirms on the table above him, tweaking her nipples as he parts her lips with his fingers to explore her cunt with his tongue.

“Bellamy,” she cries when he plunges his tongue inside her. “Fuck, Bell. God, don’t stop.”

She can hardly think straight by the time Bellamy inserts a finger into her, curving it upward to reach the spot the drives her wild. Breasts forgotten, Clarke reaches her arms up above her head to grasp for the edge of the table, needing to hold onto something while Bellamy continues to slide his finger easily in and out of her. He bites down on her labia, sucks it into his mouth, and Clarke lets out a high-pitched moan. Just when she thinks that she’s never felt anything so incredible, Bellamy circles his tongue over her clit, and she can’t keep her hips down flat on the table.

Chanting his name, Clarke fucks against his face, aware of how easily she slides down over his chin now that he’s covered in her juices. She thinks that Bellamy must have added a third finger at some point, but she’s too far gone to focus on anything but the incredible sensation between her thighs. 

Bellamy is relentless, flicking his tongue sharply again and again over her clit as she gasps and moans with every swipe. She thinks she’s going to explode when the now familiar tingling feeling starts building in her toes. She clenches down tightly on Bellamy’s fingers, and he pulls away for just a moment to look at her, all sweaty and worked up, lying bared to him and extraordinarily beautiful.

“That’s it, Princess. Come for me. Come on my fingers, baby girl.”

His words are all it takes to send her over the edge, and Bellamy gives her long, slow licks to work her through her orgasm. When she finally returns to herself, her legs are still spasming where they lay, draped over Bellamy’s shoulders, and his fingers are still buried inside of her. She realizes that she’s still clenches down and begs her walls to relax. When he slowly pulls his fingers free, another shiver works its way through her body.

“Jesus Christ,” she swears, still out of breath. 

She leans up and meets Bellamy’s eyes. He holds her gaze as he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Better than pancake syrup.” He smirks.

Bellamy helps her slide her legs off his shoulders, his fingers gripping softly at her calves long after they’re hanging limply. He stands up, slides his hands up her legs and presses a kiss to her hip after wiping his face clean against his shoulder.

“Fuck, Bell. Let me suck you off, yeah? Let me put my mouth on you. You keep making me feel so good, and I need to give you something.”

He grips her legs behind her knees and pulls her to the edge of the table. “Later,” he says, capturing her mouth. “If I don’t fuck you right now, I might just go insane.” 

Clarke tries to huff out a laugh, but she’s still out of breath, her eyes half closed. She wraps an arm around his shoulders, still supporting her exhausted body with an arm behind her on the table. She buries her face against his shoulder, and Bellamy kisses her hair, pulling her closer so he can stand between her legs. 

“You okay, babe?” he asks, his hand rubbing slow circles over her back.

“Yeah, fine. That one was just… fuck, I don’t know what that one was.” She laughs. “You’re really good at that.”

He tips her chin up so that he can kiss her slowly, letting her set the pace but slowly her down when she starts getting hungry. Clarke runs her fingers through the curls at the base of Bellamy’s spine, loving the way he shivers when her nails delicately scratch at his skin. She can still taste herself on his mouth when she runs her tongue against his lower lip. He sighs, pulls her flatter against him, but doesn’t let her speed things up, keeping her centered with slow, easy circles on her back.

He breaks the kiss, but she chases his mouth, and they end up exchanging a few more quick pecks before Bellamy takes her hand in his and holds it against his chest, between them. His eyes flutter closed and he noses against her cheek. She sighs at the contact, hugs him harder. 

“Bell?” she asks, uncertain with the sudden change of pace.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?” she asks, echoing his words from earlier. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Just fine,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek bone.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You.” He kisses the tip of her nose.

“For real.”

“I am.” He traces his fingers lightly over her jaw, up to her cheek, into her hair, like he can’t get enough of touching her. “I’m just--” He kisses her. “Happy,” he finishes against her mouth. “You’re beautiful and incredible and perfect and here and  _ mine _ .”

It’s her turn to laugh. He sounds so far away and filled with wonderment that she can’t help herself. “We’ve been pretty stupid, haven’t we?” Clarke shakes her head in disbelief. “I’ve been pining away for years thinking that you’ll never be interested in someone like me, and you’ve been beating yourself up thinking that you’re not good enough.” She cups his cheek with her hand. “I love you, Bell.”

“Me, too, Princess.” He blows a raspberry against her neck, and she lets out a peal of laughter, pulling away from him on ticklish instinct. “Why don’t we go back to bed? You’re tired.”

She cups him, still hard and straining, through his pants. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

“So, let’s go back to bed,” he says with a raised brow.”

Clarke looks at him innocently. “What’s wrong with right here?” She slides her hand down into his pants and wraps her fist around his throbbing erection, sliding her hand up and down his length a few times until he closes his eyes and tips his head back. 

“You on the pill?” he asks.

“IUD. Clean?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathing becoming shallower as he reaches between them to thumb at Clarke’s clit. 

She cants her hips up, eager for more, but Bellamy sticks to tight circles as he sucks a bruise just above her collarbone. 

“Jasper’s gonna freak out when he sees that,” she says, her voice nothing but a breathy whisper.

“Don’t talk about Jasper with your hand around my dick,” Bellamy laughs, thrusting into her fist.

She reluctantly lets go of him to push his pants down his legs, and goes back to her lazy up and down along his shaft the minute the pants are out of the way. Bellamy tips his head back to let her mouth against his neck and nip at his jaw, and she loves that he’s just as into this as she is. 

“Clarke, I need to be inside of you,” he pants, swatting her hand away and hiking her legs over his arms so she’s right at the edge of the table and he can control how wide her legs are spread. 

“Wanna lie down?” he asks when she stays seated.

“No, I want to watch this.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he groans, his head dropping heavily to her shoulder. Bellamy kisses her hungrily while he slides the tip of his cock up and down her slit, coating it in her juices that are dripping down onto the table. “Ready?”

She nods, and he lets her wrap one of her legs around him, but keeps the other one high up, hoping the deeper penetration and heightened arousal will send her over the edge like never before. She looks down at where their bodies meet, takes in the fat head of his cock as it slides into her. She wants to watch as she takes more of him, but the pleasure becomes too much and her eyes shut. 

“Bellamy,” she sighs as he slowly plunges into her. 

He meets her gaze and holds it while he pushes the rest of the way in, and Clarke can barely contain how aroused she is. Before today, she never would have believed that holding eye contact could turn her on so much. She digs her heel into his ass, urges him to start moving the second she’s comfortable, and Bellamy doesn’t need more prodding.

He moves slowly, pulling all the way out before sliding all the way back in, each time a little deeper that the last. Clarke holds on to his forearm as he picks up his pace, and soon enough, all Clarke can focus on is the way her tits are bouncing vigorously up and down so close to his face with their rhythm and how each thrust makes her tingle with pleasure and want to scream his name.

“Don’t come yet,” she tells him as she feels herself getting close.

Bellamy fucks her hard and fast, spurred on by her words, and she reaches between them to rub her clit in fast circles, wanting to reach her climax so that she can pleasure Bellamy. 

“I’m gonna come, Bell. Make me come, but don’t you dare finish yet.” Her words are staccato, her entire body being rocked with each jarring thrust.

His last one reaches her cervix, and Clarke falls forward, her nails digging into his shoulder as she cries out in pleasure and chants his name. She comes to the carnal slap of flesh against flesh and Bellamy rapidly pulling out of her and fucking back in.

The second her orgasm has past, she pushes him back with a firm hand on his chest and falls to her knees in front of him, the surprise on his face lasting only a brief second before she grabs his cock and sucks it into his mouth.

“Clarke,” he gasps, but Clarke reaches for his hand and guides it to her hair, invites him to fuck into her mouth and finish on her tongue.

Bellamy doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand tightly grips her hair when she reaches out to cup his balls, and he only manages a few more thrusts before announcing that he’s going to come. Clarke pulls him back deep into her throat to swallow around him and milks every last drop of come from his dick. We he’s limp and spent, Clarke pulls him out of her mouth with a satisfying  _ pop _ and lets him pull her to her feet.

Bellamy kisses her sweetly. “I should have given you more of a warning. I’m sorry, I--”

“Relax,” she says, echoing his words from the night before. “It’s my favorite part.”

Bellamy smiles and pulls her into his chest. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Bed?” she asks, stifling a yawn. 

“You know,” he says, scooping her up into his arms despite her laughing protests. “It’s a good thing you decided to broach this topic with me on a Friday night and not a Sunday night, because you are not leaving this apartment anytime soon.”

She kisses his shoulder and sighs happily. “That sounds perfect. Movie day?”

“Anything you want.” He drops a kiss to the crown of her head.


End file.
